


The Wolves of Orgrimmar

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Omega, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 05:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13000401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: Pregnancy isnt always fun, especially for someone like Varian.





	The Wolves of Orgrimmar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpe_noctem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpe_noctem/gifts).



Varian sighed and wriggled in the chair, trying to find a comfortable position and failing.  Nothing really made it better.  He wasn’t in pain but more an overall discomfit, whichever way he placed himself.  On his back was the least unpleasant way to lie but even then his back ached and he got very bored very fast staring at the ceiling.

_ How do women cope with this? _  He’d often wondered that but never actually asked anyone.  It was a sign of weakness, to admit he didn’t know how to manage his own body.  He was a warrior, and a King.  Weakness in himself wasn’t something he’d permit.

He was reminded of a major problem when his bladder started signalling the need to be emptied.  Any downward pressure hastened the need to pee.  With another sigh he heaved himself to his feet and shuffled to the privy.  He pushed the door closed behind him and attended to it and as he finished and washed his hands, he heard a familiar loud voice from the next room.

“Fuck the Alliance!  I hope every single one of them falls into a Void, the gutless, whining, dickless mongrels!”  Something smashed against a wall, probably a piece of furniture that didn't have the wit to get out of the way.

His mate had apparently returned, and was in his usual sunny mood.

Varian moved carefully back into the bedroom, avoiding the pieces of chair scattered over the floor, and looked up, eyes narrowed, into Garrosh Hellscream’s flushed face.  “What are you raving about now?”

“YOUR people” Garrosh snarled, pointing a finger at Varian’s chest, “are idiots.  Threatened me - ME - that if I didn’t allow you - allow you mind!  - to return to Stormwind, they’d attack Orgrimmar.”  Garrosh loomed closer and, as always, it surprised Varian to have to look up into anyone’s face as the Warchief glared down at him.  “Did you, or did you not, tell them you were here willingly?!”

“You know very well I did.”  Varian pushed Garrosh aside and slid across to the bed, settling down with his back to the wall.  “They probably think I was coerced.  After all,” he finished, wriggling his back into the pillows, “you’re not exactly considered the most trustworthy of Orcs.”  He snorted a brief laugh.  “Orcs, trustworthy, not generally two words that go together.”

It was like waving a piece of raw meat at a wolf.  He watched as the golden eyes narrowed, as heat flared across the reddish skin of the Warchief’s face, and as his huge hands clenched into fists.  “You...are…”  He seemed to be struggling to speak and Varian broke in obligingly.

“..a fabulous Omega?  The greatest living warrior?  A wise King?”

“Fat!  You are fat!”

Varian rested a hand on his admittedly bulging stomach.  “And whose fault is that?  Who tracked me down in Azshara when I was almost on heat, distracted me with his admittedly powerful Alpha aura and dragged me back to Orgrimmar to have his way with me?  I’d been doing perfectly well before that…”

Distracted from this temper - which had been Varian’s aim - Garrosh grinned and sank down onto the bed next to him.  “Doing well, were you?  Never had a Heat properly satisfied in your whole life, and never been mated by any of those wimpy human Alphas.  Took me to make this,” he said, laying one hand on Varian’s stomach.  “None of them could meet and master your Omega strength.  My son,” he said, his voice calming to a tone almost gentle.  “He’ll be a mighty warrior.”

Varian suspected Garrosh was right about that.  As much as he loved Anduin (and remembered the sacrifices his wife had gone through to bear him) his golden son was a Priest, and potentially a very strong one - but he wasn’t a warrior.  It would be fine to birth a son with his abilities and strengths, and Garrosh’s power and courage.  Half Orc he might be, but he would be half Human as well;  the best of both.

As with so much in his life, the timing apparently was everything.  A sharp spasm rippled through Varian and he arched backwards, hissing at the pain..  Garrosh was immediately on his feet, alarmed.

“What?  Are you…?”

“Yes, I am.  You’d better get the healers.”  Varian shuddered as another pain flared in his middle and he looked up at Garrosh looming over him, open-mouthed and shocked.  “Don’t just stand there, idiot, get them NOW!”

Garrosh jumped backwards, stumbled on the broken chair, yelled a curse, bounced aside into the wall, spun around and headed at a charge for the stairs.  “Don’t go anywhere until I get back!” he yelled as he disappeared from view.

Varian shook his head and sat back to wait.   _ Fool, where does he think I’m going, back to Stormwind?  _  The way things seemed to be working out, it wasn’t like he’d return to Stormwind anytime soon.  Politics and power and the needs of his office aside, what he had with Garrosh satisfied a need he’d never admitted to.  The need for strength as great as his own, to overcome the Omega power no other Alpha had ever managed to.  

What they shared wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t anything as sweet as love.  It was something far more primitive and primal.  Likes wolves, they were mated for life.


End file.
